


glow

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Pack (Minecraft)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, flower boi rob, flowershop au, i hope u like it, just poofless having a good time and vikk treating them like the advice collumn in a teen magazine, just read it, lachlan is a fuckin puppy, literally just fluff, preston keeps finding things to fix in rob's shop so he can hang out with him more, vikk leaves lachlan flowers, vikk's poetry is so bad i cried writing it, vikklan hopeless pining after each other, with no conflict whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 21:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10258892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: au where rob has a flower shop and preston is the handy guy who comes to fix the radiator and ends up fixing everything else because rob gives away too many bouquets to people who 'look like they need cheering up' to afford repairs and preston has never met someone whose eyes feel like the sun on his back and everything he's been missing.also, side plot where vikk secretly sends lachlan flowers with handwritten cards of the worst poetry in the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **this fic is finished, just clarifying that first**
> 
>  
> 
> okay so keep in mind i don't write in like the proper order that things happen. i started writing this like. february 2016 i think lmao you wouldn't think it from the length but yeah i'm really bad at writing i get block all the time so i was just adding to it for ages and then i wrote the ending at one point but then i sort of. faded out of the fandom in like july 2016 before i filled in all the gaps and it made me sad but i just wasn't feeling it anymore, but i still wanted to post this because i really liked it and it just took me ages to get around to it.
> 
> i hope anyone who liked pack fics still likes them lmao but even if no one reads it i don't really mind this fic makes me feel good and i am like. 99% sure it's my last one sorry pals even though fun fact: i managed to fill in some more of it after i typed out the tags and stuff for it isn't that nice i'm quite emo now
> 
> if u like fma go read stuff by my friend unscriptedemily she's like. ridiculously better than me she's great and she gave me lots of opinions and love on this while i was writing it thank u emily ily

au where rob has a flower shop and preston is the handy guy who comes to fix the radiator and ends up fixing everything else because rob gives away too many bouquets to people who 'look like they need cheering up' to afford repairs and preston has never met someone whose eyes feel like the sun on his back and everything he's been missing.

also, side plot where vik secretly sends lachlan flowers with handwritten cards of the worst poetry in the world.

 

 

The first thing Preston notices about the owner of the flower shop is the care with which his long fingers separate the stems of the flowers that sit in pots and hanging baskets outside the entrance. As he draws closer, he can hear the man murmuring, to himself or to the flowers, Preston really doesn't know, but he never finds out because at that point he swings his toolbox a little too high and something crashes inside it. The shop owner's head turns sharply, a few flowers clutched in his hands which he quickly places back in the pot as he stands up, brushing his hands on his jeans. He offers a hand to Preston and mumbles a, "Hello." His embarrassment of being caught talking to himself is obvious in the blush on his cheeks, so Preston smiles and takes his hand, shaking it gently.

"Hi, I'm Preston. Came to , uh—"

He lifts his toolbox, arm complaining at the extra strain after putting in a few hours at the gym.

"—fix the..."

"The radiator, yeah," the shop owner says, bringing a hand to his own cheek and leaving a faint smear of dirt behind. Preston bites back a grin.

"It's uh, through here, just follow me."

"Will do."

But when Preston steps inside, an old fashioned bell announcing his presence with a loud _ding_ , he stops. Preston has seen flower shops before —he's a mama's boy and always has been, so it wasn't unusual for him to stop in on their local one when he still lived in Texas— but this place must be some kind of elite flower shop, not for people in their twenties needing to grab a bunch for Mother's Day or a last minute 'get well soon' present; no, this place is definitely for people who are flower _enthusiasts_ , people who buy flowers and preserve them in glass cases like in Beauty and the Beast, people who press them delicately into books to look through in however long it takes for them to be safe from time. Because this place is tiny, but it's absolutely _blooming_ with colour, colours Preston has never seen, and maybe this is what people mean when they say fuchsia, or cyan, or scarlet. Everywhere it looks like there was once a gap is filled with a wooden crate stuffed to the brim with flowers Preston couldn't name if he tried.

And as he turns slowly, trying to take in as much as possible before he has to do his job, his gaze fixes itself on the shop owner. His feet are turned inwards, his hands clasped awkwardly behind his back, but his eyes are _shining_ , the promising beginnings of a smile on his face, and in that moment this man he doesn't even know the name of is more beautiful than every flower in this shop combined. He gives off the innocent vibe of a child who has just made the person they look up to the most laugh for the first time, like the first thirty seconds of Clair de Lune after the left hand starts laying down bass chords for the melody to skitter over. His eyes are full of adoration for this explosion of colour he's created, and when his gaze finally falls on Preston, it feels like the sun on his back and everything he's been missing.

"My dad, um, inspired me to do what I love. He always encouraged me when kids at school put me down and told me not to let them tell me how to feel. So, uh," the shop owner laughs a little, nerves sneaking into it. "Little bit of trivia for you."

"Your dad sounds real nice," Preston says softly with a reassuring smile, switching his toolbox to his other arm. The action is meaningless but it seems to flip a switch in the shop owner.

"Oh! Oh, right, the radiator. Sorry," he shakes his head at himself, "I'm not quite with it today, as you could probably tell from the talking. To my flowers. Thing. Uh…yeah."

Preston can't help but laugh, knows despite the relaxed atmosphere it would cross the line of professionalism to call the man cute so simply says instead, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone…"

The shop owner tilts his head to the side in a bird-like fashion when Preston just trails off, then claps a hand to his forehead, eyes falling shut in embarrassment.

"Oh god, sorry, I haven't even- Rob. My name. Is Rob." He looks at his feet with an adorable huff at himself, then back up at Preston, who is reluctant to put an end to Rob's sweet awkwardness, but knows he should save them both before it results in an uncomfortable scenario.

"It's okay, Rob, I'm not gonna run out on you just because you're not so great at the whole," he puts on a gruff voice, offering his hand to Rob in an exaggerated gesture, "hello, I'm Rob of Violets are Blue, thanks for coming to fix my radiator. Right this way." He returns his voice to normal, smiling when Rob sniggers into his hand. "Formalities are hard. It's cool, I get it."

"Well," Rob says as he draws his hand away from his mouth. "I'm glad you do. The guy I got to come fix the holes in the wall was running for the hills without finishing the job because I told him he reminded me of a daffodil."

"A daffodil?"

"He was built really delicately and he had all this blonde hair and a long nose."

"Honestly, I don't know many guys who'd be cool with that, Rob— aside from me of course. I have no issue with being compared to a pretty flower," Preston teases, batting his eyes with a jokingly high pitched giggle. Rob looks down and shakes his head with a smile, smearing the dirt on his cheek with the hand that's come to rest there and Preston can't hold back his snort this time.

"You got a little..."

Preston taps his own cheek, Rob's eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he rubs a few fingers around the area Preston directed him to and completely misses the dirt. Preston steps forward with a pitiful grin to point it out.

"Right there."

Rob's fingers come away smudged with dark brown this time, his cheeks reddening under the remaining dirt. "Oh _wow,_ clearly I haven't repelled you enough with my obvious lack of professionalism yet."

"Stop it, Rob, it's fine. The lack of professionalism just adds to your natural charm."

"Oh, _charming,_ am I?"

Preston is grinning as he says, "Oh yes, please Mr Latsky, give me a glimpse of the smoulder that makes all the boys swoon!"

Rob attempts an exaggerated pout, his eyelids lowered to the point of being almost completely shut and wiggles backwards with his ass sticking out. Preston can't help his laughter, it catching in his throat and re-emerging in the form of a coughing fit when Rob trips over his own feet and sprawls out on the floor. Preston tries to gather himself, hands on his knees for support as he chokes out through shallow gasps, "Are you okay?" Rob simply lifts his hand and makes a thumbs up, shaking with laughter and making no effort to get off of the floor.

Shockingly, Preston doesn't fix the radiator that day.

 

[-]

 

Frantic squeals are echoing through Violets are Blue when a determined Preston pushes the heavy door open a few days later, prepared to actually do his job instead of just joking around with the shop owner for a few hours, going home, and adding Rob on Facebook where they continued to amuse each other by joking at the other's expense and captioning pictures of goats until stupid O'clock in the morning when Preston realised sleeping was probably the best way to stop himself from blowing himself up by loosening the wrong pipe at work the next day. Dropping his toolbox on the ground (but not before grabbing a hefty wrench), he charges through the shop into the back room where the noises seem to be coming from, ready to beat the shit out of whatever is forcing such awful noises out of Rob, but when he's in there the hand gripping the wrench drops to his side, his grip slackening as a smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He leans against the doorframe and tucks the wrench into his back pocket so he can cross his arms. He's really going for the 'condescending prick' look today.

"Having trouble, Robert?"

"Literally, fuck off."

A mouse the size of half a can of soda is peering up at Rob, who is perched on a pile of one, two, _three_ wooden crates, stacked dangerously upon each other. The mouse decides to hop forward to inspect something at the foot of them and the tower wobbles precariously as Rob clutches the sides with a screech of, _"Preston!"_

Preston has to snigger, shaking his head at Rob before walking over and crouching down behind the mouse, which is sniffing innocently at the bottom crate. He grabs it gently, provoking a yell of disgust from Rob ("Preston, don't touch it, it might have fleas. Or the _plague_.") and jogs through the shop to the door, letting it scurry out of his palm and onto the pavement. When he returns, Rob hasn't moved, fear still evident on his face.

"Is it gone?" Rob calls down, knuckles white where his fingers are gripping the wood.

"Gone. Out in the wild, with all his mousey friends-"

"Don't talk about its friends!" Rob near shouts, the crates tilting once more as he shudders in repulsion. He'll fall if he's up there for much longer, Preston realises. He'll have to make this fast.

"No, it's okay, he won't be coming back here again, the smell was too strong for his-"

_"Stop calling it a he!"_

"-for its nose. He- I mean, it won't be coming back here again."

Rob gives him a look.

"I mean it, it's really gone. No more mice. Just come down from there before you break your neck!"

Rob's eyes sink to the distance between him and the floor. He pales.

"I, uh, don't think I can."

"Do you need me to hold your hand?"

"Shut _up_."

"I'm serious! Your royal perch is going to collapse if you don't let me help you. Come on, take my hands."

Rob's bottom lip slips between his teeth, eyes flicking from Preston to the ground and back to Preston again. He breathes out shakily.

"Fine. Don't let me fall."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Rob reaches for Preston's outstretched hands and hops down, Preston holding him with an iron grip as Rob lands, knees bending. He feels Rob's hands are shaking. Probably from the adrenaline, Preston reasons with himself, but isn't this nice. Rob's hands in his, holding on so tight it's almost too much but boy, does it make him feel something like starvation for more, more, more, more of Rob, more of this, but then Rob is pulling his hands away and holding them out in front of himself as he says in a suspicious tone, "Preston?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you just hold my hands. After touching a _rat_."

 _Shit._ Preston makes a valiant attempt at distraction.

"It was a mouse, not a—"

"Oh my _god, Preston!"_

 

[-]

 

"Hello?" Preston calls as he sets his toolbox down on the counter, surprised to hear two voices reply instead of one. He goes to investigate, unable to start work without Rob anyway (the radiator has been fixed but he's decided to have a look at the hole in the skirting board and patch it up; it's no big deal).

When he pushes aside the beaded curtain hanging over the entrance to the back room, he first notices Rob, standing on a step ladder and reaching for a small crate of brilliantly blue flowers, then a small, skinny boy sitting on Rob's beat-up couch with his arm around a large plotted plant resting next to him.

"Hello, and who is this?"

"Hey, Preston," Rob says over his shoulder, throwing him a smile as he gets down, crate safely in his hands. "This is Vikk."

"Hi Vikk—" Preston starts, but is cut off by Vikk tutting crossly.

"Rob!"

"What?!" Rob says, voice raising in pitch at Vikk's accusing tone. Vikk shakes his head, fixing Preston with an apologetic look.

"I apologise for Robert's rudeness."

"That's fine?" Preston tries, confused. "But what…what…"

"How disrespectful of you to introduce me and not my girlfriend." Vikk pulls the plant closer to him. Preston opens and closes his mouth, then opens it again.

"I…what?"

Vikk fixes him with a concerned look.

"Rob, I think your new toy boy is broken."

Rob shoves Vikk for that, and they start wrestling on the couch before Preston has even begun to acknowledge the fact that Vikk called him a 'toy boy'. What does that even mean?

"What's a toy boy?" is the first thing that makes its way successfully out of Preston's mouth. Vikk flings out a leg and pins Rob down, hand over his mouth, and sits on his chest.

"A toy boy—" he begins, getting comfortable on Rob's chest so casually he must have done this before and just. Wow. This kid is strong. "—is what you call someone's younger boyfriend."

Preston feels his cheeks heat up but persists. "I've never heard that term before."

Vikk shrugs. "I don't know, man. It's, like, slang. From England."

Preston raises an eyebrow at the same time Rob manages to throw Vikk off him and exclaim, "Slang from England, eh? Sounds totally fetch!"

Preston cringes to himself as Vikk's leg bends in an unholy way to kick Rob in the face. He makes a mental note to _never_ get on Vikk's bad side. _Ever._

"Hey man, I was just trying to be a little more cultured," Rob whimpers into his cupped hands, moving one to pinch his nose as he tilts his head back. "Oh my god, I think I'm bleeding. Preston, am I bleeding?"

"You're not fucking bleeding, you speng," Vikk scoffs, rolling his eyes as he pushes Rob off of the couch and points to the blue flowers. "Now, flower man, arrange my bouquet and back to the basement with you."

"You know, for an Indian, you really don't seem to care about unpaid labour."

"You don't pay him?" Preston asks, a little confused when Vikk shakes his head.

"Nah, but it's chill. He gives me free flowers and I give him a coupon for free meal at the diner every week."

"Wow." Preston raises his eyebrows with a few nods. "I'd take it."

"Anyone would, our diner is the shit."

"It really is, man," Rob agrees from across the room where he's arranging the flowers in a vase, ready to wrap them in the plastic cover when he's finished.

"I'll have to stop by sometime."

Vikk nods enthusiastically and Preston grins at him, before pushing himself lightly off where he's leaning against the doorframe to sidle over to Rob.

"What'cha got there, Robbie?"

"Some ferns and white freesias, mostly blue orchids. Vikk gets the same bouquet every week."

"Every week, huh?" Preston turns to ask. Vikk nods again. "Must be for someone pretty special if you're sending them flowers every week."

"Oh god, Preston, why would you—"

"Yes, they are!" Vikk beams. "His name is Lachlan, he has blonde hair and blue eyes and he's really tall and skinny and pretty and he's from Australia and his accent is so cute and his favourite colour is red and—"

"Preston," Rob groans as Vikk chatters on wildly, but Preston can only smile because it's quite cute.

"Wow, he sounds great. You pick blue orchids for any reason?"

"Blue orchids are—" Rob and Vikk start at the same time, but when Vikk gives Rob a glare, Rob turns meekly back to arranging. Vikk smiles at Preston and chants as if he knows it by heart.

"Blue orchids are from Greece and people carried them around because they believed they brought strength and virility—"

"That means good at sex," Rob calls over his shoulder to Preston.

"Shut up, Rob. Orchids in general signal strength and beauty, but blue orchids mean romance, beauty and desire."

Preston has to smile at the way Vikk's eyes are shining. "They sound wonderful. I'll bet Lachlan appreciates them."

Behind Vikk's back, Rob turns and mouths to Preston, 'you have no idea'.

"He's interesting," Preston comments as they watch Vikk drag himself down the street to start his diner shift.

"He's a pain in the ass," Rob responds, but his eyes are warm and one corner of his mouth is slowly tugging up into the sweetest smirk as he waves jauntily at Vikk when he turns. Vikk shows off both middle fingers in retort.

"So what's Lachlan like? Dream boat or total jerk?"

"Picture a new-born deer trying to walk."

"…that's adorable."

"Now imagine it's thirty feet tall and making up reasons why it lost at Super Smash Bros."

"Voyaging into the valley of slightly less adorable, Rob."

"Nah, he's a bit of a baby but he's swell. He's good for going to theme parks with 'cause he's tall enough for everything." Rob side-eyes the door. "Unlike some people."

Preston snorts. "What about his feelings then? Are Vikk's affections returned?"

Rob's eyes roll back into his head. "Oh. My god. It's absolutely disgusting. Every Friday Vikk comes in and writes his little card and every Saturday Lachlan comes in to buy some tulips for his mom and as I'm wrapping them up he leans on my counter or pokes at some flowers and asks in this hopeful little voice, 'Rob… is there anything for me?' And I go, 'Well, let's see, shall we?' and go into the back and Lachlan comes bounding after me like a fucking puppy and I get Vikk's flowers and go, 'Aha!' and he literally squeals with delight."

"But that's so cute—"

"It was cute the first time, and maybe the second but it's been every week for so long and now it's just like. Yeah. Cool. Mysterious poetry man. Who could it be."

"It is sweet though. And you gotta admit, you'd be excited if a stranger you'd probably been told by your mutual friend was attractive was leaving you flowers and poetry?"

A shy little smile sneaks into the corners of Rob's mouth, his cheeks glowing soft pink.

"Look at you, blushing like a school boy," Preston exclaims with a grin. "Is there someone in particular you were thinking about?"

Rob avoids Preston's eyes, biting his lip. Preston gasps exaggeratedly.

"There is! Tell me!"

"Fuck off, you're the last person I'd tell," Rob snorts, before turning and heading into the back room. Preston stays where he is, a little dazed until Rob sticks his head out and asks, "Coming?"

Preston shakes himself and picks up his toolbox.

"Yeah, yeah, gotta have a look at this skirting board. Can't have anymore mice getting in, can we?"

He probably deserves the tap in the balls.

 

[-]

 

"So orange symbolises sincerity and blue symbolises royalty—"

"No, no, no, _purple_ symbolises royalty, blue symbolises serenity."

"Look whatever!" Preston protests, lifting another forkful of noodles to his lips. "I don't need to know this, this ain't my job."

"It's not about needing to know, it's about being able to spout facts that make people think you're really knowledgeable when secretly it's all a lie."

"So you're saying you're a fraud?" Preston asks with delight.

"No, I'm saying you could be. I am the smartest person you've ever met." Rob 'tosses his hair' and flashes a Miss America 2016 smile.

"What's the capital of Egypt?"

The smile dries up like a river in a ten year drought.

"That's what I thought."

The bell jingles for attention and Preston and Rob look over automatically, Rob preparing to reluctantly ditch his lunch, but his mouth perks up into a smile when he sees who it is and carries on munching his tuna salad happily.

"Hey, Lach—"

"You will not _believe_ what just happened."

Preston looks away from the very angry tall person to whisper, "Lachlan?"

"Lachlan," Rob confirms.

"You know that kid that busks on the corner with the weird creaky thing?"

"The Accordion Kid? Yeah, I love that guy."

"Oh, _do you now_?"

Lachlan is seething. Rob gives Preston the quickest glance he dares.

"What's he done to piss you off so much?"

"Ohoho, it's not _what_ he's done, my friend, but _who_ —"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's—he's fuckin' shagged my mum!"

Preston chokes on his tongue. Rob wipes Lachlan's spit off of his face. All of Lachlan's rage seems to seep out of him as he pulls up a crate and sags down onto it.

"He's. Making love to Mrs Power."

Lachlan's head is gripped by his fingertips. His teeth are gritted. "Yes."

"Why do you care who your mom gets intimate with?"

Lachlan is back up again in a second, pacing from one side of the shop to another as he talks. "Three reasons, Rob! One, he is a fucking child, he is only just eighteen, he's younger than me! Two, I've seen him with a billion different girls, sometimes multiple ones at once and I won't let my mum be another one for him to fuck over. And three, he plays the fucking bagpipes for a living!"

"The accordion."

"Whatever!"

"How did you even find out?"

Lachlan kicks over the crate he was sitting on.

"He was in my kitchen wearing my robe this morning. My mum made him fucking pancakes."

"Oh my."

"That's fucked up," Preston inputs.

Lachlan seems to properly notice him for the first time. His brow furrows. "Who are you?"

Rob rolls his eyes. "Where are your manners?"

"I'm Preston. I fix things."

"Can you fix this? Because I really just. Don't know what to do."

Preston pretends to be deep in thought. "Pay him to let her down gently?"

"I'm not giving that Scottish wanker anything!"

"He's from Brooklyn," Rob supplies helpfully, through a mouthful of tuna.

Lachlan lightly slaps him over the head, to Rob's childish wine. "Unless you're helping, Rob, I forbid you to speak."

"Um… get one of the girls he's screwed over to talk to her?" Rob tries.

"Send him to 'Manwhores Anonymous'?" Preston fires back. Rob laughs, clapping his hands.

Lachlan points at Preston with a serious expression. "You're funny."

"So I've been told."

"We're friends now."

"…Well alrighty then."

"But I still don't have a solution."

As Lachlan turns away, starting up a new rant about the 'fuckin' bagpipe-playing cunt', Preston waves his hand at Rob to get his attention and exaggeratedly mimes smelling a bouquet of flowers. Rob's eyes glint and he nods in understanding.

"—like he doesn't even have a real job, who plays the bagpipes on the fuckin' curb for a—"

"Lachlan, what day is it?" Rob interrupts.

Lachlan rolls his eyes. "Rob. It's 2017, literally just look at your phone."

"No, Lachlan, what day is it?" Rob repeats, emphasizing the last four words. Lachlan looks irritated and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything Preston jumps in.

"Isn't it _Saturday_ , Rob?"

"Why, _yes_ , Preston, it is indeed _Saturday_."

Lachlan's face is blank.

"Not Sunday. _Saturday_ ," Preston pushes.

"Is this some kind of inside joke you two—"

Lachlan suddenly cuts himself off with a gasp. Rob eyes Preston wearily as if to say, _'Watch this.'_ "Rob. Rob, it's Saturday!"

"Really, I hadn't noticed," Rob drawls. Lachlan shoves him so hard he almost falls off of his crate with a screech.

"Rob, don't be a fuck! Did he… I mean, is there any—"

"Yes Lachlan, in the back. Just gimme a second and I'll— or you could just. Yep," Rob says matter-of-factly as Lachlan Sonics into the back room.

"Has he ever considered it might be you leaving him the flowers? I mean, the boot kinda fits," Preston offers. Rob gags.

"Literally, do not. He had a phase around a month in where he was convinced it was me playing a prank on him, but there was this one time where he like patted my shoulder and said, 'if you really do like me, you know I wouldn't mind, right?'. I wanted to barf."

"Rob! He left me flowers again!" Lachlan practically squeals, emerging with the bouquet Preston saw Rob arrange the day before.

"Wow."

"And there's a card!"

"Can't wait to hear it."

_"I saw you the other day down at the bank  
I thought of you earlier whilst having a—"_

"Stop, stop right now, I will literally behead you with my shears if you continue."

 

[-]

 

karaoke.

 

[-]

 

"Here's another one, Rob."

Rob reaches up to take the basket Preston passes down to him, setting it beside the rest of them on the floor just inside the shop, behind where he sits on the front step. Preston has managed to convince Rob to allow him to replace the string holding his homemade hanging baskets up with sturdy, but slim and pretty chains so they won't blow away in storms anymore while simultaneously maintaining their delicate beauty. Rob is unweaving the baskets on either side to make room for the chain to slip through, having immediately gathered them all protectively in his arms with a shout of, "No!" when Preston readied his drill. "You can't just drill a hole in the side, the whole basket will unravel!"

So now they've set up a system: Rob makes the gap, and Preston slips a chain through it in a complicated pattern that couldn't come undone if it tried, while they sit on the pavement outside the shop playing a game of would you rather that's becoming increasingly more and more disgusting.

"Would you rather…eat both of your legs, or eat your entire dog?"

"Gross, Rob!"

"You have to choose."

"Oh, boys!" a familiar voice sings, and they both look up. Lachlan is pulling a little red wagon behind him, and there's a box sitting in it with a few large vinyls. Preston sees Rob's eyes go wide in his peripheral vision.

"Oh my god, Lachlan, you didn't."

Rob pushes himself off the floor so Lachlan can get the wagon inside. Lachlan grins and twirls.

"Oh, but I did."

"Did what? What did you do?" Preston asks, tugging on Lachlan's arm, playfully impatient.

"He's got me a fucking record player, that's what he's done!"

"Found it in the attic and thought it would go with your whole—" Lachlan gestures vaguely in Rob's direction "—flower boy aesthetic."

Rob furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but Preston knows exactly what Lachlan's referring to: the flowers tucked in crevices all over his body, freesias threaded through the belt loops of his jeans, bluebells tucked in the button holes of his shirt.

"Anyway, let's get this set up, boys."

"Oh, Lachlan, we really want to, but we're kind of in the middle of work—"

"Come on, Preston, we've been working for _ages—"_

"Rob, it's been twenty five minutes."

"—like I said, ages."

"But we really need to get this done—"

"Preston," Rob drawls, pulling himself up to his full height authoritatively. "It's my store. I say when we work and when we rest."

"Except you won't be resting," Lachlan calls, and Preston looks over to see Lachlan gently pulling a record from its cover, placing it on the record player and settling the needle in place. Upbeat guitar starts up, and Lachlan and Rob cheer, Rob heading right for Lachlan and taking both of his hands as a man Preston recognises as Elvis starts to sing the verse. Rob's eyes widen.

"Dude, I love Elvis! How did you know?"

"Don't you remember? You told me literally yesterday. We were texting about songs from our childhood and all you could talk about was Elvis."

"I remember now. Bro, this is fantastic, thank you so much! Come on, let's dance."

They jump in a circle, joined by the hands, Rob singing tunelessly along with Elvis about being 109°. Preston can relate. Rob's ass looks amazing in those pants.

Preston isn't planning on dancing; he sits back down against the shop door, propped open by a crate, and picks up one of the unravelled baskets to continue the work. But that's when he hears Lachlan calling over the music to Rob.

"Hey, Rob, look at Preston over there, thinking he's too cool to dance with us."

Preston rolls his eyes and threads a chain through the basket.

"Oh yeah, I can see him. Look at the way his shirt sleeves are rolled up, too cool for us."

Preston frees one hand and raises his middle finger at them, and really, he should've expected it when they start crowing.

"Oooh Rob, did you see that?"

"Preston swore at us, wow, he's so cool!"

"I wish I was cool enough to swear at people!"

"Do you know what I wish, Lachlan?"

"What do you wish, Rob?"

"I wish I was cool enough to wear that stupid-ass bandana."

Preston drops the basket on the floor and stands up so quickly he gets a head rush, but it doesn't stop him from charging head-on at Rob and tackling him onto the floor as Lachlan cackles, "Quality entertainment," above them.

"No, no!" Rob laughs as Preston messes up his hair. "Lachlan, help!"

"Sorry mate, you're on your own."

"But we're a team!"

"Did I ever tell you I'm attracted to power?"

Preston's head snaps to face him so quickly as he splutters, "What?" But it gives Rob the advantage and he finds himself landing on his back so fast he can't help the strangled, "Fucking—"

"Woah, sorry Preston, my heart belongs to Rob now."

"Fuck off," Rob giggles, fighting to keep Preston's arms pinned down but looks like time at the gym pays off because Preston manages to roll them again and suddenly he's sitting astride Rob's hips and— well. This is an. Interesting position.

Lachlan seems to agree.

"Comfy there, Preston?"

"I—um, I—sorry."

Preston pushes himself out of Rob's lap ( _reluctantly_ , his subconscious whispers).

"Hey man, it's okay," Rob says, sounding surprised. "It's not weird."

The room suddenly feels too quiet. Elvis, he notices, has shut himself up.

"Uh…" he tries. "So about the door. You say it gets stuck?"

Rob clears his throat and stands up. "Uh, yeah. Come on, I'll show you."

 

[-]

 

[a little boy was being shouted at by his mother when she found him in the store, holding a bouquet of mostly white jasmines, until Rob came back from the stock room, explaining that she needn't worry because they're on the house for the 'little natural', and it was at that point Preston had noticed the bouquet wasn't wrapped as neatly as rob does it, realising that the boy must have arranged them himself. "They mean 'I love you'," the little boy sobs, pushing them into his mother's hands. "The nice man told me."  
"That was really nice of you," Preston comments softly as they watch the boy and his mother walk down the street, the boy holding onto his mother's hand.  
"It's the reason I can never afford repairs," Rob snorts, but he smiles, and it's soft, and Preston's heart does somersaults in his chest. "Worth it though. For kids like that."  
"Do you want kids?"  
"Yeah, definitely."]

 

[-]

 

This vent is a little deeper than Preston had anticipated.

Okay, a whole lot fucking deeper like god _damn_ , he has no idea how far this thing goes with how dark it is and his ladder is precarious, to say the least.

"Rob?" He calls, his voice bouncing off the metal walls and dissolving into a coughing fit from the eruption of dust that sneaks into his lungs.

There's no answer. Rob must still be in the back. He hears the ring of the bell hanging over the door and eases himself out of the vent, prepared to deal with any customers as best as he can with his limited knowledge, but when he sees it's instead a distressed looking Vikk, he breathes a sigh of relief. He really doesn't know flowers well enough to help the regular customers, let alone the plant snobs that appear out of the blue; he could really use some help right now himself anyway, his tool box on the counter, too far away for him to reach.

"Yo, where's Rob?" Vikk jumps in before Preston can even open his mouth.

"In the back. Hey, why're you in such a rush?"

"I couldn't get over here yesterday because of my fucking boss 'reminding' me—" he mimes quotation marks with mocking fingers, "—that I apparently had to help the new guy I'm training clean and close up the diner, only the guy doesn't fucking show up. Turns out he went home sick so I had to clean the whole place by myself, and we had a fucking birthday party there as well so it was double the fucking mess and by the time I was done I was so fucking exhausted I could barely even walk fucking home."

Vikk pauses for air for the first time, and Preston sends a silent prayer for the poor new guy who will face Vikk's wrath through their next shared shift because Vikk is small but fuck, he can pack a punch when he's angry. Preston still has a faint bruise from the one time he dared to joke about Vikk's height. Never again.

But now Vikk looks tired, defeated even, and it's not a good look on him. He runs a hand through ruffled hair. It looks like he's been doing that all day.

"And now I need to write my card before Lachlan gets here or he'll be really disappointed. I was going to get up earlier and stop in before work but I slept through my alarm so I really need to find Rob before my lunch break ends or—"

"Vikk, everything's okay, I'm here," Rob says with a smile and a little bob of a curtesy and how fucking adorable was that, Rob is such a princess. "I was just sorting some stuff but here's your card—" he hands it to Vikk, who takes it with a grateful nod, "—so you just sit down here and write your message, and I'll go get the Lachlan Special out the back and get it safely delivered to him. You don't need to worry, I've got it all under control; he'll get it."

And suddenly all the tension in Vikk's face is gone, ironed out as easily as crinkles in a cotton shirt to be replaced with a smile that's tired, but relieved and relaxed and rewarded with a pat on the head before Rob heads back to the stock room, leaving Vikk quietly writing his card, the room with a much calmer feel to it. And Rob can do that for people, Preston has noticed. People seem to come into the shop in distress more times than Preston could ever handle, but by the time they leave there's a bouquet in their arms and their eyes alight, because Rob just glows. He's a paper lantern, soft and soothing against the uncertainty of the endless sky, and the love just _radiates_ from him like someone lit a fire in his heart one day and he's never let it even flicker.

With Rob, Preston has never felt so warm.

"Vikk, sorry to bother you, but when you're done, do you think you could give me a hand?"

Vikk nods absentmindedly, filling in any spaces in the neat little white card with tiny stars and putting the pen down on the counter before looking up to Preston.

"How may I be of service?"

Preston smiles in thanks. "Thanks bro, can you just hand me my torch and my tape measure? Can't quite reach them and this ladder is a bit, well…"

"Yeah, I got you."

The clatter of metal scraping against each other and a number of curse words from Vikk later, Preston's torch is being brushed against his fingertips.

"Bit higher?"

"I'm trying," Vikk hisses through gritted teeth and suddenly Preston remembers Vikk has a _little_ problem. He can't help but snicker quietly at his own joke, but stops immediately when Vikk asks dangerously calmly, "Are you laughing?"

"No, no, just coughing. Lots of. You know. Dust."

He coughs twice just to show. Like. Yeah. Totally legit.

Just then there's the sound of running footsteps and a grunt before the torch is thrust up into his hand and he barely catches it, fingers fumbling but gripping all the same and he calls down, "Thanks! And my tape measure?"

There's a mutter of, "Fuck," from below, and Preston can only assume that if it took a running jump to get the torch into his hand, there's no way Vikk will be tall enough to get the tape measure to him, a smaller, more compact shape. There's strained noises from below, the rhythmic tap of Vikk hopping to try and push the tape measure into Preston's hand, but then the bell rings and there's a, "Hey, you need some help?"

"Help would be much appreciated," Preston says as loudly as possible without creating an embarrassing echo. The sound of footsteps and then his tape measure is safely in his hand and yesssss, he can finally measure this fucking vent. He pulls his head out to thank their saviour and oh hello, it's Lachlan.

Wait a minute.

It's _Lachlan_.

Fuck.

Lachlan is standing over Vikk, Vikk shying away slightly with his body pressed lightly into the ladder and looking up at Lachlan, eyes flaring with nerves.

"Hi," says Lachlan.

"Um…hello."

There's a silence where Lachlan just looks down at Vikk as Vikk stares straight back. Lachlan's tongue slides slowly across his lips, and Vikk swallows audibly. But then, there's a clatter and Rob appears from the back.

"No need to fear, Roberto is here!" He announces, vision blocked by the large crate of flowers he holds. "Sorry I took so long, Vikk, thought I'd grab a few different families and do a little redesign out front. But here—" he settles the box on the counter and lifts the smaller crate with the blue flowers in it out, spinning around with a flourish to face Vikk, "—are your blue or—oh. Uh. Hello there. Lachlan."

Preston looks at Rob.

He looks at Vikk.

He looks at Lachlan.

He slowly inserts himself back into the vent.

"Blue orchids?"

Lachlan doesn't sound suspicious, just curious. There are footsteps, the snick of Vikk's card being picked up off of the counter.

The silence stretches over a minute. The cuckoo clock in the corner ticks obnoxiously loudly. Preston wishes it would shut the fuck up.

"Blue orchids," Lachlan says again, but this time as if he's drawing to a conclusion. _Fuck, man, hurry up._ "And poetry."

There's the sound of shoes scuffing on the wooden plank floor, Vikk coughing once. Then,

"Are you my...?"

Vikk coughs again.

Someone clears their throat.

"Lachlan," Rob says.

A pause.

"His name's Vikk, yes, he is your secret admirer, and when he isn't speechless he's actually a really great guy, so you should both go down to the little cafe across the road before his lunch break ends. I recommend their blueberry muffins. Here are some coupons and conversation topics, including your new cat and Vikk's hopeless desire for you to call him 'baby'." 

There's an incredulous, "Rob!" and _oh boy,_ if Vikk has been shocked out of his silence that means he's himself enough to fight and god, Preston has to see Rob getting what he has coming to him, but when he pulls his head out of the vent, it's just in time to see Rob pressing a stack of cards into Lachlan's hands and pushing them both out of the door.

"Have fun, kids."

When Rob has shut the door on Vikk and Lachlan (and bolted it, presumably to stop Vikk from forcing his way back in and giving him a fatal wound), his eyebrows raise at Preston.

"Mysterious vent man finally makes an appearance."

Preston flips the bird at him. Rob sticks his tongue out in response.

"Help me out and hold this dumb ladder steady so I can get down."  
Rob obliges and Preston climbs down shakily as the ladder wobbles, despite Rob's grip. When Preston is safely on the ground again, he continues where they left off.

"You're scarily organised."

"What?"

"The cards."

"Ohh, those. Yeah, I did them while Vikk was on one of his rants about Lachlan's legs."

"Did you have to say all of that stuff though? About Vikk's 'hopeless desire for Lachlan to call him baby'?"

Rob snickers but when Preston speaks again, his smile drops.

"Couldn't you have just waited for Vikk to tell Lachlan himself?"

"Dude, I did my waiting. Twelve years of it."

Preston's mouth drops open but then Rob finishes, "In Azkaban." and Preston rolls his eyes.

"No but seriously, they've been pining after each other for five and a half months."

Preston whistles. "Woah."

"And what, with them both being from a foreign country with a limited number of good friends and me being the one who knows them both best, they unload all of their obsessions with each other onto me, like, every other day, and if I don't get them to tell each other stuff early on, it's gonna be god knows how much longer of—"

Rob puts on a terrible English accent.

"'—Why is he so perfect? It should be illegal to have a jaw line that sharp, he could fuckin' cut someone with it. For fucks sake, why is he so fuckin' perfect?'"

Then an equally awful simpering Australian one. "'Ooooh, Rob, Vikk writes the best poetry, listen to this one from the month before we got together: 'Though my heart longs for you, I'm afraid I must wait, for my wanker-ish friends, set me up on a date.' Oooooh, how romantic.'"

Preston is laughing, but Rob's expression rapidly turns to one of _I'm-about-to-say-something-I feel- really-strongly-about-so-you'd-better-agree-with-everything-I-say-and-not-interrupt,_ so he shuts up.

"Okay, but Vikk's poetry is literally the most _disgusting_ poetry I've ever read. It's so bad. It's just so, _so_ bad, you don't even understand."

Rob stomps over to the counter and picks up Vikk's abandoned card.

"I cannot _believe_ Lachlan likes this stuff, honestly, listen to this: 'When we finally meet, wish me good luck, because your thighs are pretty as fuck'. That is shit. Tell me that's not shit."

"It's very shit, Robert."

" _Thank_ you!"

Rob sits at the stool behind the counter and collapses face-first onto it, Preston leaning on it opposite him with a grin.

"You seriously have no idea how bad it got listening to them going on and on about each other without having anyone to talk to."

Preston puts a mockingly sympathetic hand on Rob's arm. But then Rob pushes himself up on his elbows and says, "But now I have you."

And then Rob smiles at him and it feels like pulling on his favourite sweater in fall and Preston's heart is beating faster because his body just responds to Rob and his warm eyes and his warm voice and his warm fucking smile that feels like the sun blessing him with its glow and Preston just needs an evening with Rob and a bottle of wine because he wants to tell Rob every thought he's ever had but there's no way he's doing that without being somewhere between extremely tipsy and outrageously drunk.

Then Rob's expression is moving smoothly into one of comfortable curiosity, that smile lingering in the corners of his mouth where his smile lines and the scruff of his beard reside, and he's asking, "Hey, what are you thinking about?"

"Uh…lunch."

And then Rob is tossing his head back and laughing and his teeth are so white and his smile is just so lovely and his laugh is fucking ridiculous but it's still the best sound Preston has ever heard and _that_ is when he realises.

He's hopelessly, helplessly, horrifically, horrendously head over heels for this flower-obsessed man-child.

_Fuck._

 

[-]

 

[talking about relationships rob says they instead of she rob describes his crush preston doesn't realise 'WHO IS IT wow sounds like a way better person than me' gets sad]

 

[-]

 

"My god, I don't understand how you two get any oxygen at all when you're eating each other like that."

Rob isn't sure if Vikk and Lachlan are genuinely oblivious to his snide comment, or are just ignoring him in favour of sucking on each others tongues, but he doesn't really care either way. All he's concerned about is whether they'll separate long enough to deal with any customers that may come in while he's on his lunch break. Normally, Rob just eats a sandwich in the back room whenever his appetite deems him to have waited as long as he can possibly wait, but last night Preston suggested they meet in the diner down the street today and have lunch together. 

Rob jumped to agree and immediately rang Vikk to mind the shop, who apparently managed to get Lachlan off of him for the few seconds it took to gasp out, "Yeah, fine," before the line went dead.

So now that Rob has (admittedly, intimidatingly handsy) babysitters for his shop, he takes one last look around to make sure everything is in order before heading for the door. There's a, "Rob," when he pulls open the door, the bell sounding. He looks over his shoulder to Vikk, who is sitting on the counter with his arms draped over Lachlan's shoulders, Lachlan standing between his thighs, kissing his neck. Rob rolls his eyes but then Vikk says, "Tell him about the yellow tulip," and he freezes. Vikk smiles knowingly at him before his eyes fall closed and his mouth drops slightly, his fingers gripping Lachlan's shoulder.

Rob chuckles shakily. Then, he takes a few steps to the nearest display box, threads his fingers through the maze of stems and gently coaxes out the one he needs. Just before the door shuts behind him, he hears Lachlan asking Vikk, "What does the yellow tulip mean?"

He smiles.

 

[-]

 

"Here you are, sir."

"Thanks. God, I'm starving."

Preston has been looking forward to this all day. He's excited to see Rob, yes, hasn't been to the shop for a few days due to a plumbing problem at the local high school robbing him of all his time and energy; but this diner. This food. It's like food he's never tasted in his life and he's never been so excited to have a plate set in front of him. He hopes Rob won't mind that he's ordered without him but he _just couldn't wait any longer_. His eyelids droop and he barely contains the blissful groan his body begs him to let out as he takes the biggest bite of his burger he can. How did he survive without this food for so long? He makes a mental note to always come here with Rob when he visits the shop. Another bite his mouth can barely remain closed around. Fuck, he's in love.

Just then, Rob appears out of nowhere, slides into the seat opposite him in the booth, holds out a yellow flower to him and starts to talk, looking him straight in the eyes.

"A long time ago, it was Turkish tradition to wear this type of flower in their turban, and Europeans were the ones who accidentally gave tulips their name, finding it too similar to the word 'turban' and confusing the two. Soon the muddle was sorted out and tulips came to represent affection, the type of affection specific to their colour. The yellow tulip means cheerfulness, joy, happy thoughts and, 'there's sunshine in your smile', and don't get me wrong," Rob eyes flick down to the flower in his hand as he breathes out a sigh over his words, "—there's sunshine in your everything, Preston, but that only became its definition over time. Once it meant, 'I am hopelessly in love with you', and I stay true to that meaning. I'm in deeper than I ever could have imagined I'd be and it's scary, it's _terrifying_. I feel like I'm peering over the precipice of a 50ft cliff face, wondering if I should risk the drop just because I can see you at the bottom, and I don't—" An anxious laugh. "I don't even _know_ if this is romantic or if it's just too much for a guy like you, but I'm not asking you to confess undying love for me, I'm just asking you to give me a chance."

Fuck.

Preston realises, suddenly, that his mouth is still full of food.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

He chews frantically, feeling awful when he has to hold up a finger, hoping the expression on his face looks at least a half as sorry as he feels because fuck, he needs to get his words out as quickly as possible.

Rob's eyes move from Preston's face to his raised finger. When they move back to meet Preston's eyes once more, a seemingly hysterical snort gives way to a bout of laughter. Probably due to nerves, Preston thinks, but he can't help but laugh too, near choking on the mouthful of food he's still working on swallowing as Rob lets rip the ugliest series of goose-like honks and fuck, he's in love with this man. This gorgeous man with a gorgeous mind and a way of confessing his feelings so damn gorgeous Preston doesn't think an indie romcom could do any better.

He finally finishes the food in his mouth, swallowing hard around the lump his laughter has created in his throat and he always has one of those when he hangs out with Rob, doesn't he? He loves how Rob makes him laugh, at him until his ribs ache, with him until tears are brimming in his eyes. He loves Rob.

How does he tell Rob all this? The way Rob is looking at him reminds him of the way he looked at him when he was acknowledging that he had talked to his flowers as if they were people; nervous, shy, but mostly just hopeful in a way Preston only saw in the eyes of his young cousins when they asked him if they could have ice cream before dinner. Rob has always been childlike. It's his eyes, Preston thinks, so wide and full of wonder, brown like chocolate milk, but chocolate milk that was heated up, or made thicker, or with a swirl of whipped cream on top—

Preston really needs to stop trying to compare Rob's eyes to things and hurry up and tell him how he feels before Rob realises Preston actually has no conscious thoughts in his head and calls 'backsies' and bans him from the shop. Then again, sorting out his thoughts is probably a good idea so he doesn't start babbling his previous thoughts because Rob knows he loves food, but Preston can't imagine him being very thrilled if he opens with, "You remind me of whipped cream."

Rob is finally starting to calm down, his face pressed into his hands where he's slumped in his seat as he snickers quietly, and Preston knows he has to say something, so when Rob pulls his hands away and meets Preston's eyes, at last, Preston just starts with the first thing that pops into his head.

"I started falling for you the day we first met when you reversed and fell on your fucking ass."

**Author's Note:**

> wow yeah so that's that idk
> 
> i'm really sorry about the gaps i did fill in a bit of it just now i originally didn't finish the bit where we meet lachlan it just ended before they came up with solutions but i wanted him to get his flowers so i wrote it yes fun
> 
> i'm emo this was just rly nice to write and i have like. grown up since i was in this fandom and i'm nostalgic whatever i hope you liked it


End file.
